


Nekhushel (The Sorrow of All Sorrows)

by Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)



Series: Whispers Connected By Stars [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/pseuds/Eternal%20Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin died and went to the Halls of his Fathers thinking that someone he had come to care for very much had betrayed him. His parents know the truth of the matter, but they have to do some digging of their own before they decide to tell Thorin what he needs to know in order to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nekhushel (The Sorrow of All Sorrows)

**Author's Note:**

> I blame all of the fan videos that I've come across on YouTube as of late for pushing me to finally writing this story that has been percolating in my mind. Thrain II's wife (Thorin's Mother) doesn't seem to be named anywhere, so after perusing a few Khudzul sites, dictionaries and names lists, I chose the name of Fróia for her. Mainly because it seemed that the name that was in my head was one that another writer had already used and I didn't want to step on their toes.
> 
> Also, my idea is that the Star Pool works a lot like the Mirror of Galadriel did in Fellowship of the Ring. In writing those scenes, I had to be very careful and not go into too much detail because after I started writing, I discovered an excellent fic by another author who had developed the concept of the Star Pool really well in her story and I didn't want to duplicate anything that they had already written.
> 
> Most of the Khudzul words come from the awesome dictionaries located at the [Dwarrow Scholar](http://www.dwarrowscholar.com/). So much amazing information is there.

It had been some time since Thorin arrived in Mahal’s hall and while some things had changed with him and some things had healed, there was still a deep sadness that he wore around him like a heavy coat. He still had to keep a close eye on Fili and Kili because he was still struck by the terror that he would open his eyes one day and they would once again be harmed or dead and once more he would be to blame for what had happened to them.

It didn’t matter how many times his nidoyith reassured him that they loved him, that they forgave him for whatever he thought he had done wrong... that _they didn’t blame him for how they fell in battle_. They had been glad to be with him and would not have wanted their lives in exchange for his. He was their Uncle and he was their King and they would have followed him anywhere.

Thorin didn’t know how to handle such love and devotion from the brothers even after everything that had happened at Erebor and then at Ravenhill. How was it that they were still able to be so devoted to him, to honouring him when all he ended up giving them was death at far too young of an age?

Time passed, it could have been months or it could have been years. Thorin either didn’t know or didn’t care. He was there to greet others with family and kin when new arrivals showed up in the Halls, but there was still an untouched pain that those who knew him well could see within his eyes and heard in his voice sometimes. 

It was Fróia who started to put things together in her mind. There were things... people... that her son still would not speak of. He would answer questions about his quest and the company. He would share the stories and his thoughts with his close family -- grandfather, grandmother, mother, father, brothers and nephews -- but even then some of the things they learned came from Fili and Kili instead of Thorin.

Such things like the love Thorin hadn’t known he had until he had tried to throw him from the battlements of Erebor over what he perceived as a betrayal.

“Bilbo didn’t know the word betrayal, grandmother,” Fili murmured to her one evening when he and his brother were spending time with her and Thrain. “Everything that little Hobbit ever did was out of love for Uncle and for the rest of us.”

“He impressed you,” she said softly as she carefully braided Kili’s hair, even knowing that she would have to do it again soon since her youngest grandson cared not about his hair. 

“He did,” Kili agreed after stealing a glance at his brother. “He was so scared to leave his safe world, but once something happened, he was so brave. Everything he ever did was only motivated by how much he cared about the people around him.”

“He gave the Arkenstone to Thorin’s enemies,” Thrain reminded them. His voice wasn’t condemning, it was quietly seeking information.

“He did _not_ ,” Fili growled. Then remembering who he was talking to, he stopped to compose himself and took a puff from his pipe. Kili reached over to squeeze his brother’s arm in support as Fili turned blue eyes full of emotion to his grandfather. “Bilbo took the stone to _Bard_. Bard who brought us into his town and his home at great threat to himself and his children if he were found out. Bard, who took us in when Kili was sick and dying. Bard who had the courage to come to the mountain and ask for the payment Thorin had promised the people of Lake Town after Smaug destroyed their homes and their world after we failed to kill him and he set off against the men because he couldn’t destroy us.”

“Bard was not our enemy,” Kili agreed. “He was our ally and our friend. Fili and I saved his children during Smaug’s attack and we stayed with them until we had no other choice but to continue on to Erebor. Bard didn’t want treasure for himself. He wanted the ability to care for the people that he was now suddenly responsible for in more ways than he had ever imagined. If Uncle hadn’t already been... been ill then Thorin wouldn’t have refused to help him with the agreed gold.”

“Thranduil,” Fróia ventured.

“Ah, well, Bard had no hand in the elves showing up, to be honest,” Fili sighed. “But it was the elves that were there to help men before we could get Thorin free of the dragon sickness.”

“That cursed gold,” Thrain muttered around his own pipe.

“I know... I know the treasure was the heritage of our people, grandfather,” Kili said hesitantly. “But, but I never wanted to look upon it after the first time we saw it when we arrived from the destruction of Dale.” He bit his lip and this time it was Fili reaching out to comfort him as he continued to talk. “Seeing all of that and then seeing the way Thorin had _changed_... I never wanted to have any part of that unless we were going to be able to rebuild and help our people... and help the people that had lost so much because of us.”

“You’re not exactly one that has been known to think clearly when it comes to the elves, akhûnîth,” Thrain said in a gentle voice. “You would not have known if they were your true enemy or not.”

Kili looked stricken and hunched his shoulders, looking like he had been hit as his eyes filled with pain and sorrow. He ducked his head, trying to control the emotions that his grandfather had stripped bare.

“No,” Fili didn’t bother to stop his growl this time. “Do not do that, nadadith.” He moved closer to his brother and pulled him to him, hating the pain in his brother’s eyes. “She was your One and she loved you as you loved her. It was nothing that you need to feel shame over and if our own family would cause you to look like this, then we will find somewhere else to be.”

That last statement was directed at his grandparents as his eyes flashed with fury.

“An elf she may have been born, but Tauriel also had the heart of a dwarf. When she found out that Kili had been injured, she went against the orders of her King and left her kingdom to follow us to make sure that he would be all right.” Fili snapped out, his anger making him shake as he shielded his brother from the disdain he was sure his grandfather was showing him. “When she found us during the orc attack on Bard’s house, she helped us fight and then disobeyed her Prince to stay behind and save Kili. Kili would have been dead much sooner if it hadn’t been for Tauriel. At the battle of Ravenhill, she came looking for him and tried to help him fight after I fell. It was not her fault that Bolg hurt her before she could stop him from killing my brother. After Kili fell..” Here Fili had to swallow hard a few times because he still hated that Kili had died so soon after he had when his laughing little brother should have lived so much longer. “After Kili fell, Tauriel made sure that Bolg died, as well.”

“Idiot,” Fróia said as she looked at her husband. “That was not the way to bring this into the forefront.”

“Ah, Kili, young warrior, don’t look like that. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean to do that at all. Just was trying to point out what others may have thought about you saying anything about an ally of Thranduil’s.”

“Tauriel was nothing like Thranduil,” Fili said angrily, still looking at his grandfather. “She was banished because she wouldn’t leave us to fight on our own. She was Kili’s One and she was worthy of my brother.”

“I hate that I know that she loved me at the end,” Kili whispered from behind Fili and Fróia gasped at his words even as Fili pulled him to hold him in a tight hug.

“Kili, no,” Fróia said softly. “Don’t renounce her like this. There is no reason...”

“That is not why I feel this way,” Kili said, but his tear-filled eyes were locked on his brother’s. “Fee, she’s going to die.”

“No, Kee, no,” Fili tried to comfort him. “She survived the battle. Tauriel will live long and proud. She’s immortal don’t forget.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered and his family could tell that he was on his feet only by strength of will alone. “Tauriel... elves only love once. It was real between us and she will love no other because she loved me and because I am gone, she will die, too. Her heart... elves can die from the losing of their One, Fee. In loving me, Tauriel condemned herself to an early end.”

“Oh, nadadel,” Fili said in horrified understanding as he pressed his forehead to his little brother’s in sorrow. “Oh, Kee, how do you know this? You could be wrong. If it was from the elves... then they lied to hurt you. You know how Thranduil and Legolas acted about her concern towards us...”

“Mahal,” Kili whispered. “Mahal told me after I asked him about something I saw in the star pool when I was watching and listening to the people left behind. One of the Mirkwood elves was talking about how their Captain had diminished so much after the deaths at Ravenhill. I thought it meant she was hurt in the battle, but it was my death that hurt her heart and her soul.” A tear slid down his cheek. “I should never have tried and never have told her how I felt. My amralime and I have destroyed her.”

 

After Fili took his brother away to their rooms, Fróia sighed, staring into the fire as Thrain sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms.

“Well, now we know that we were right about Thorin and Bilbo,” Thrain said softly as sorrow coloured his words. “But, I want to know how did Kili keep such a secret from all of us, but especially his brother when it has had to have been shredding him piece by piece since he found out?”

“The sheer stubbornness that seems to flow through the men of the Durin line?” Fróia offered. “Or, more like he wanted all of us to focus on taking care of Thorin and didn’t want the attention on himself.”

“What are we going to do, my beloved? There is so much that Thorin doesn’t know. He thinks that he is fine because Bilbo forgave him as he lay dying, but you and I both know that some of his pain is from thinking that his One betrayed him.”

Fróia leaned her head against her husband’s, her eyes sad. “We have to tell him what we saw in the pool, beloved. He doesn’t deserve the grief and despair he is feeling over what he perceives as Bilbo’s betrayal.”

“Thorin asked Bilbo for forgiveness as he lay dying. He didn’t seem to be unsure at the time.” At Fróia’ glare, he chuckled softly. “I know what you’re thinking, my jewel. I’m just wondering if we have the right to intrude on his grief and his memories.”

“He grieves over something that did not happen, my husband. You and I both watched what Bilbo did when he took the jewel to the camp and heard what he said. It is not right that Thorin keeps denying his feelings for his One over a betrayal that Bilbo never committed against him.”

“Would it not be kinder for Thorin to keep his illusions, Fróia? What good would telling him do when it would strip away all of his defenses and leave him hurting and mourning something that he can never change because nobody knows what happens to Hobbits after they pass from the world. Do we have that right to strip the armour away from our son’s heart and leave him even more vulnerable to the pain over something that can now never be?”

“Do we have the right to keep the truth away from him, Thrain? Falsehoods by omission are still falsehoods and I would not do that to our son -- not when he has already seen and lost so much. Maybe sweeping away the false beliefs will allow him to heal with his good memories of Bilbo Baggins to comfort him.”

Thrain was quiet for a long moment and then he nodded. “You are a wise woman, my beloved Fróia,” he finally said. “This is not something that we should keep from our inudoy. Perhaps the truth of the situation will bring him some measure of peace. Mahal knows that he indeed needs that with all of the regrets and sorrow he is carrying on his shoulders. I would that we didn’t have to strip him of his illusions, but maybe it is a kindness that we do this and maybe it will help him to heal just a little more.”

 

Fróia found Thorin in his forge. He spent a great amount of time here these days. There were weapons and other things lining his walls, but the lines that she was most interested in were the deep ones that now lined his face and didn’t seem to get any smoother no matter how long he had been here. Her son was healed, physically, but there was so much more left to do before he would be able to gain the peace that she felt he deserved and needed.

She waited until he was finished with the piece he was working on and then cleared her throat. He turned to look at her and seemed surprised to see her standing there.

“’amad?”

“I need you to come with me, Thorin,” she said softly. “There is something you must see and your father and I need to talk with you about a few things.”

Thorin’s eyes filled with worry. “Is ‘adad?”

Fróia shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “No, your father is fine, my son. There are just some things that you need to know and we have avoided it for far longer than we should have.” She extended her hand, and it was no less of a command even with the gentleness of her voice. “Come.”

Thorin wiped his hands on one of the towels and banked the fire before taking his mother’s hand and leaving the forge. He didn’t know what was on her mind, but he wouldn’t refuse her now when he was with his beloved parents again. While they walked, Fróia didn’t let go of his hand and he wondered once more what was going on. When they met up with his father at the doorway to the chamber that held the great gazing pool that allowed them to look to the people who still lived back in Arda, he gave his parents a confused look.

“I need you to listen to us, my son,” Thrain rumbled in a deep voice. “And I need you to trust us.”

“Of course I trust you.” This was not doing anything so far but causing Thorin’s concern to grow even worse as he met his father’s eyes. “What is the matter?”

Fróia hadn’t released her son’s hand, and her voice was still gentle. “There is something that you are not going to want to see, but we feel that you must. And then you must listen to us no matter what your first reaction is to a great many things, Thorin. You are as stubborn and thick headed as any of your forefathers in the line of Durin, but you will see and you will listen.”

Thorin didn’t understand what his parents were so adamant and concerned about, but he was willing to do anything for them and if they wanted him to peer into the star pool with them, then that was what he would do. Then, later, he would ask his questions since they seemed so somber but determined about something. When both his ‘adad and ‘amad were acting the same way it was a wise dwarf indeed who listened to them carefully.

 

Thorin blinked several times after they moved through the pool of stars. It was dark in the field where they emerged, but as soon as Thorin’s eyes adjusted, he gasped. It was a sound that was a mixture of shock and pain because he recognized where they now were. 

Bag End hadn’t changed so much in the time since Thorin had last seen it. The flowers were still in colorful clumps around the door and down the paths of the yard from the familiar circular door that led into the front of the lodging. It wasn’t lit up as much as it had been that night, in fact, he could see light shining out from only one window and as much as he didn’t want to be here, he wondered why the hobbit lodging was so very dark.

Thorin knew his eyes were shining with the betrayal he was feeling as he whirled around to look at his parents in hurt disbelief.

“You dare? You brought me _here_... of all places. In Mahal’s name, why? You watched... you saw what happened and how we parted.”

“He was at your side as you drew your last breath, Thorin,” Fróia said softly. “Do you truly hate him as much as you pretend to?”

“It’s not _hate_ that I feel for our small burglar, ‘amad. There is too much feeling and too many memories of all that happened, but hate is not the right emotion for what I feel.”

“He regained Erebor for you,” Thrain said roughly.

“And then turned around and gave the Arkenstone to my enemies even though he knew what it meant to us.” Thorin’s voice sounded every bit as hard as the stone all other races claimed dwarves were created from.

“He sought you out in battle even though there was great danger to himself.” Thrain continued.

“He had his ring and the Mithril armor that I had given him before...”

“Before you held him over the battlements and threatened to throw him over them.”

Thorin’s mouth shut hard as he stared at his father. His hands curled into fists as she struggled to keep himself under control. He would not shout and rail at his parents. _He would not._

“He never put the ring back on his finger to escape after he sought you out on that battlefield, Thorin. Yes, he could see that Azog was dead, but there was still plenty of peril and he was no warrior as you were.” Thrain’s eyes were hard as he faced his son. “He had to have been frightened out of his wee wits, but he didn’t see anything but the fact that you were wounded and he wanted to be there and try to get you to safety.”

“Why did you seek his forgiveness as your last words, Thorin,” Fróia asked him softly. “With everything you believed he had done to harm you, why were you the one who sought his forgiveness as you lay dying? You could have demanded explanations and instead you apologized to him and wished him to return to his home and everything he loved.”

“There had been too much anger and too much death, ‘amad,” Thorin sighed softly. “I was dying and there were no answers he could have given me that would have changed anything. I did not want his last memory of me to be of me willing to kill him after everything that we had been through. I could at least give him that. I could ease his grief and his mind.”

“That may have been your intent... But that is not what ended up happening, my son,” Fróia said sadly.

Thorin didn’t like the way his mother was sounding or how she was looking at him. He had a feeling that she was trying to ease him into something that was too painful to her imagining and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was that his parents were determined that he witness.

“Come,” Fróia said firmly, pulling him to the door of Bag End. Before Thorin could decide if he was going to refuse, the three of them had passed through the walls and were inside the home that meant so much to a Hobbit that had ended up changing the fortunes of so many.

It was dark inside and though it didn’t hinder Thorin, he wondered again why Bilbo didn’t have the whole place lit up like it had been that night that their company had all come together and plans were made. He didn’t get a chance to stop and look at anything as his parents pulled him down the halls to a room that Thorin didn’t think he had been in that night. The door was open only a little and the light coming out was warm but muted at the same time.

Fróia led the way in, holding Thorin’s arm in a firm grip and Thrain followed behind him, his hand on his son’s shoulder.

Seeing Bilbo caused Thorin’s heart to stop for a moment before it starting racing in his chest. The Hobbit didn’t look very much changed, from what he could see. Of course, he couldn’t see his face, but his hair was the same soft brown color that Thorin remembered and he seemed to have a little more flesh on his bones again. He looked almost exactly like the Hobbit they had started out on a long journey with, but there was something off that Thorin couldn’t seem to identify.

“Look above his fireplace,” Thrain ordered.

Confused, Thorin lifted his eyes and then froze. “That is not... It was buried in my tomb.”

“No, it is not,” Thrain said in a soft rumble. “One of the Rivendell elves made a duplicate of it -- in a bit smaller size -- and brought it to him.”

“The elves come to the Shire?” He didn’t know why that idea bothered him as much as it did.

“Sometimes they do, but not often. Some of Bilbo’s relatives don’t seem to like the company that he keeps since he was corrupted by those rowdy dwarves that he invited to Bag End and then went gallivanting off into who knows what kind of trouble with.”

“ _Gallivanting?!_ ” Thorin was incensed at the description. “Bilbo used that word to belittle all of our --”

“Bilbo doesn’t talk about it to anyone, Thorin,” Fróia interjected. “He knows full well what his less than happy relatives have been saying about him over the years and he hasn’t once said a word to convince them otherwise.”

“But his deeds... they should know what kind of hero they have living among them. The glory of his reputation alone, not to mention all of the treasure that I’m sure the company sent him home with...”

“Thorin, he didn’t bring back any treasure from Erebor.”

Thorin froze and then turned his eyes to his father. “What? He was promised payment if he survived our perils and the Company didn’t fulfill that part of the agreement?!” That wasn’t right. The others had _adored_ Bilbo. They never would have cheated him of anything that they felt he was entitled to.

“No, son. They would have sent him home with far more than what he was promised. They wanted to and they tried to get him to take just one more thing when he was packing to leave and he refused. He told them that they would need all of the gold and treasure much more than he would as they had so many people to take care of and so much work to do.” 

“He didn’t keep anything?” That... Thorin didn’t know what he was supposed to think about any of this.

“That’s not quite true, son,” Fróia said softly, even though there was no chance of them being heard by Bilbo in the state they were in. “He kept a small throwing ax of Fili’s, one of Kili’s knives, an arrow, the mithril shirt... And a few beads.”

“Beads?”

“Your beads. They must have fallen out of your hair or your beard during your battle, inudoy,” Fróia said. “There was no way that he could have known of their meaning to you, but he kept them because they meant something to him.”

Thorin wasn’t sure he liked the way that the ground seemed to be shifting beneath him as he looked away from his parents to where Bilbo was sitting in the armchair by the fire. The fire was the only light in the room and it bothered Thorin because he didn’t understand why Bilbo was surrounded by so much darkness in his home. When he noticed the book in Bilbo’s lap and the way he was bent over it writing at a fast pace, he became even more confused. The book looked like the pages were almost full.

“What is he doing, writing? How in Mahal’s name has he written so many pages in the short time that he’s been home?”

“It’s been ten years here since you fell, Thorin,” Thrain said sorrowfully.

“ _Ten years?!_ But he doesn’t look any different, a bit fuller, perhaps, than last I saw him, but nowhere near the size he was when I first met him.”

“That’s one of the mysteries that we haven’t been able to explain and it just adds to the things that gets him talked about around here -- not to mention the weekly or so visits from the rangers.”

“The rangers?”

“The Dunedain Rangers,” Thrain explained. “They’re not quite men but not elves, either, from what we have been able to understand. They live longer than any other men but not so long as elves.”

“Why are Rangers visiting the Shire so frequently?”

“By request of Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Gandalf the Gray.”

Thorin’s blood froze. “Is Bilbo in some kind of peril?” Had orcs followed him home?

“We don’t know. We haven’t seen any sign of attacks or skulking around, but if Elrond and Gandalf are concerned and the Rangers don’t miss a visit, then they must be worried about something.”

“Even now, he could be in peril and after all he wanted to do was return to the security of his home,” Thorin sighed sadly. “Even with everything that happened, I would want him to be safe and secure to the end of his days.”

A short sniffle caused Thorin to jerk his head back to where Bilbo’s hand had dropped from the page.

“This is all wrong,” the little Hobbit whispered. “All of this is wrong. They were not supposed to die. He was not supposed to die. Why didn’t the Creator take me? I was no King or Prince. I am no leader and no great person of any importance. What use a Hobbit’s life when a King was needed. I would have given my life happily if it meant that he would never had fallen. I did everything all wrong, and then he died and he never knew of my care.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered. “No, Bilbo, I would never have wanted you to barter your life for mine. You were everything that was good about this world and someone who should never have been touched by the things that you were dragged into with us. I never should have taken you from your home... Are those tears? Why are there tears?”

“He does this every night,” Fróia said sorrowfully. “He goes about his day like he hasn’t a care and then when night falls, he shuts himself here in this room and he writes, or smokes and then mourns. Sometimes he just stares into the fire or at the replica of Orcrist on the wall.”

“But why? Why would he do this to himself after so long? Surely it can’t be from his guilt.”

Fróia made a noise of unhappiness in her throat as she looked at him. “Guilt for what? For begging an Elven King and a man who was having to take care of his people for your life, Thorin?”

Thorin stumbled back at both the words and the anger in his mother’s voice. “What... What are you talking about, mother?”

“I tell you now that Bilbo never betrayed you, Thorin,” Thrain said. “We watched everything. We know what happened and what he really did. We know why he took the Elves and Men the Arkenstone. He took it to them in an attempt to barter for your life.”

Thorin sucked in a breath in shock and just stared at his parents. He was having a hard time staying this close to Bilbo while not being able to speak to him directly and now he was being told that everything he believed was so very wrong.

“I don’t understand. Bilbo told me that he took the stone as part of his share and then gave it to them... they tried to blackmail me with it...”

“He took the stone in an attempt to save you from the sickness that was destroying you. All he ever wanted to do was save you and he thought if the stone was removed from Erebor it would help you be able to fight what was happening. The reason he gave it to Gandalf, Bard and Thranduil was because he was trying to convince them to take the stone and not attack you and the Company.” Fróia’ eyes had brimmed with tears at this point. “He begged them not to declare war on you. He told them that even though the thirteen of you were outnumbered you would still fight to your last breath to hold onto the mountain and not lose your home again. Bard didn’t want to fight you, Thorin. He only wanted the means to help his people as they were promised. Thranduil wanted the gems because they reminded him of his dead wife, but he would have gone to war for them.”

“Bilbo. He...”

“Begged for your life, Thorin. He knew that you would hate him for taking the stone, that cursed damn stone, but he was willing to bear all of that if it meant that you were safe and well.” Thrain’s voice was gentle. “I never expected to see anyone beg for the life of one of our people, but this little Hobbit did just that.”

Thorin’s breath whooshed out of him and his head lowered so that his chin was touching his chest. He felt so confused and out of sorts. There was so much he didn’t understand and didn’t know how to deal with. It felt like a layer or more of his very being had been stripped away.

Fróia looked at Bilbo and her face softened. “We need to leave, son. You are not ready to see what always comes next.”

“I can handle --”

“No, you cannot, inudoy,” Fróia said gently. “I think you have had enough shocks and truths for one day.” She lay her hand gently against Thorin’s cheek. “You can come back another time -- on your own if you wish it.”

“Though, you should let your sister sons know if you want to be alone,” Thrain added. “They have been doing their own watch over Bilbo.”

“But, _why?_. There’s so much that I don’t understand.”

His father nodded and there was far too much knowledge swimming in his eyes that Thorin had to look away. “I know, but now, I think you are going to be ready to face all of the facts now that you are no longer mourning losing your Hobbit due to his betrayal of you.”

“My what? ‘Adad?”

His parents didn’t answer and he found himself back in the chamber of the Star Pool in Mahal’s Hall. He waited until his parents left the room and then looked into the Pool. It didn’t show him anything, but that was fine. He wasn’t really looking for anything or anyone.

“I will return, Bilbo. I will have all of the answers that everyone seeks to hide from me.” He managed a sad smile. “After all, you always did say I was far too stubborn even for a dwarf.”

He looked at the Pool once more, and then exited the room. He needed to find his nephews. There were mysteries here and he knew that he could count on them to provide answers.


End file.
